


Nasty Habits

by tnystrk



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnystrk/pseuds/tnystrk
Summary: Jesse has nasty habits, and Hanzo helps fix them.





	1. Long Lost Brother

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic that I'm actually publishing! Any sort of criticism is highly regarded. It's still a work in progress, so I'll update as soon as I can. Hopefully y'all will enjoy!

Tobacco smoke fills the small white walled room. There's a quiet _thunk, thunk_ that reverberates the space, and a scraggly brown haired, brown eyed bearded man in his 30s is laying horizontally on his cot, legs strewn against the opposing wall in a V as he bounces and catches a tennis ball against it. A lit cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth. Although he typically prefers one of his hand-rolled cigars, he saves them for more trying times. Despite his exhausted state, his thoughts are ricocheting through his noggin as if there were a million of these balls bouncing inside of his brain; he can feel the heavy bags under his eyes and the throbbing warning of an oncoming migraine in his temples. A quick sideways glance to his bedside table to see the dim green 4:34 AM confirms his fear: it's been another sleepless night. _Damn. And I got a check up with the doc in the mornin'._

 

He sighs, then gives the ball another good throw and lets it bounce to the floor behind his head. Reaching with his left arm, he means to pinch the bridge of his nose, expecting to feel the usual cold touch of his prosthetic hand... but catches sight of his scarred stump instead, ending about three inches below the joint of his elbow. He'd forgotten he'd taken it off hours earlier before he took a shower. His head lulls back until it's hanging off the side of his cot so his lifeless metal arm is in view on the desk directly behind him. With the blood rushing to his head in this position, he wonders if it'll help will all of these racing thoughts away. _C'mon, ya damn idiot. You need sleep--_

 

The inner monologue is interrupted when there's a flurry of knocks at his door. It makes him jolt up in sudden surprise, staring at the door for a few brief seconds before calling out, "Who issit?"

 

"Genji." It's one word, two syllables, but he can hear the amount of desperation in his comrade's mechanized voice well enough. Realizing he's only clad in sweatpants and nothing else, he's already scrambling to stand and grabbing a green and blue flannel from his closet as he hears Genji continue. "Jesse, it's about my brother... I believe I know where he is."

 

Jesse loops the sleeve of his plaid shirt over his half arm and lets it dangle off his shoulder as he places his right hand on the palm reader so the door slides open. What's revealed to him isn't what he was expecting. It is Genji, of course, but he isn't wearing his visor. The respirator and headpiece are still covering everything on his face aside from his black feathery hair and his dark eyes that are looking directly at Jesse. Genji is truly a marvel of human ingenuity and perseverance, Jesse muses, and the epitome of a half human, half machine hybrid. His cybernetic implants are whirring softly beneath his silver and green accented armor, and they are obviously pumped up from Genji's heightened heart rate. Maroon colored scar tissue cuts its way across his face in what little is visible. It's not often that he's out in the open like this, and in fact, this is the first time Jesse has seen anything organic of Genji's since their time in Blackwatch. He wonders if his left arm is still even intact or if the only thing his heart is keeping alive is his brain.

 

"Yer brother? Thought ya ended that search," he says, voice hoarse from lack of sleep, as he slips on the rest of his shirt and begins buttoning it up skillfully with one hand (he's had practice). The half-forgotten cigarette still in his mouth ashes itself on his chest, which he just brushes away with the back of his hand as he takes another puff.

 

"I did. It seems someone else has been on the lookout." Usually, Genji is far more reserved, but now he seems on edge. Eyes hidden in a shadow, only noticeable by a small glint from the moonlight through the window behind Jesse, are darting between him and the expanse of the dormitory hallway in the direction of his own room. "An email was just sent to me, and I woke to it maybe thirty minutes ago." He pauses, gaze lingering down the hall now. Those thick black eyebrows of his are knitted in concern, and his Japanese accent sounds more evident in his antsy tone. "It's an anonymous contact, and it has pictures of what looks like CCTV footage. I would like a second opinion on the validity of the images and the sender."

 

"Huh." Jesse finishes buttoning up his shirt and takes his cigarette from his mouth with two fingers. "Don'tcha think someone else would be more useful? I ain't dumb, but I also ain't a genius like Winston."

 

Genji looks back to Jesse, and his eyes are slightly crinkled -- as if he's smiling. _Probably mockin' me in his head_. "... I am not denying what you are saying," he replies, almost cautious with a tad bit of humor. _Knew it_. "However, when I asked Athena who was awake at this hour, you were the only answer. I do not wish to disturb anyone's rest."

 

The tobacco has ran out in Jesse's cigarette. He flicks the dead butt into the trashcan by his desk, then places his hand on his hip, a tired half grin lazing on his face as he says dismally, "Aaalright, Genji-kun. I'll be yer assistant detective for the early mornin'. Lead the way."

 

.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.

 

>  
> 
> To: cyb0rgn1nj4@xxxxxx.com
> 
> From: [invalid address]
> 
> Cebu. Philippines. Bulaklak Hotel. Get your fancy AI to look it up.
> 
> P.S. Promise that the pictures aren't viruses. Open them.
> 
> P.P.S. I am not Sombra. I am on Overwatch's side.
> 
> [(10) attached files]

 

Jesse scans the email a few times since it's few in words, then leans back in the chair and scratches the facial hair along his jaw. Genji is leaning against his desk, arms crossed and head turned to read along with him. The text is simple and straight to the point with no mockery in the tone.

 

"D'ya really believe it isn't Sombra?" he asks, squinting at the message again. "It sure don't seem like her style to do somethin' like this."

 

"I agree. It is not her 'style.' I do believe that it is someone else... but still, someone who knows about the new Overwatch. Finding out who it is is not under my expertise, unfortunately."

 

"Me neither." Jesse then decides to open and scroll through the list of pictures. As Genji stated earlier, the majority of them look like screenshots from surveillance videos. Some are displaying the outside on the streets of a rather busy city and some are inside the hotel itself. All of them have the same central point of interest, though: a man with a lowered angular face who always shaded in a black hoodie; a short and evenly trimmed goatee peeks into view occasionally, accompanied with thin lips that appear to be in a permanent grimace. The most damning picture of all is the tenth one, which doesn't look like the others format wise. Jesse deduces that it was taken with possibly just a cell phone -- it is a clear-as-day frame on the side of Hanzo's face, showing off his stark profile. The man is fully recognizable now, even from the few pictures Jesse has seen of him from the time when he and Genji were young. Talking with presumably the attendant at the front counter of the establishment, his chin is high, and his hood had fallen back a few inches to showcase some sleek black hair that seems to be tied up. A sharp nose leads up into an intense gaze and furrowed eyebrows that look remarkably similar to Genji's. _Signature Shimada gaze, huh?_

 

"It is most definitely Hanzo." Genji beats him to the punch of speaking first. "If these images are doctored... Well, I personally do not think they are. Do you?"

 

"Nuh uh," Jesse answers gruffly. His eyes never leave the screen. "'specially that last one. It's too good o' quality, and shit... that is 100% Hanzo, all the way through."

 

They are both silent for a brief minute; the only sound in the room is the hisses of Genji's joints as he fidgets. He is no longer studying his terminal and looks down towards his feet instead. The air is a little tense around them. Jesse knows how hard Genji tried to get into contact with Hanzo since Winston initiated the recall. One time, when there was nothing scheduled for him, he was locked away in here for a full 24 hours, either probing away at all of his leads or meditating on his thoughts with Zenyatta, not even knowing if Hanzo was alive or dead. The time he spent searching slowly dwindled down until he deemed it time to hone himself into the team. Had his master not accompanied him back to Gibraltar, he may have fallen into confused madness all over again.

 

"... I need to go to him," Genji murmurs. That's when Jesse finally gives him his attention. He notices a fist tighten, metal scraping together under the pressure. "He has lost everything and has no one, now that the Shimadas are dead. Overwatch can give him a home, protection, a _purpose_ , and I can finally be reunited with my brother again."

 

Jesse nods slowly as his hand runs through his hair. "Yeah, I ain't gonna try n' stop ya from that. You deserve the closure -- both o' y'all do -- but we're gonna need to do this smart-like, y'know? Let's see what Athena can do, for now, n' we can talk to Winston and the gang 'bout this t'morrow."

 

The fist unclenches, and Genji generally seems less tense than seconds before as he takes a deep breath. His gaze flicks over to Jesse. There's a hint of a smile again, but it's a lot warmer than the previous one he gave. "You are right, cowboy," he says with a sigh, and Jesse smiles back amicably. "I apologize. When it comes to Hanzo, my emotions get the better of me." He pushes himself off the desk and crosses his arms, looking upwards as if Athena was right there on the ceiling. "Athena, can you attempt to track the sender?"

 

The smooth, ubiquitous voice is quick to reply. "I have already begun to run tests on the IP address, Agent Shimada. However, the use of encryption is very complex, and I am failing at receiving any results. The attack Reaper conducted has left my systems weak; I did not even detect the breach, if there was one. In the meantime, I have fortified our own network security and put further reinforcement on agent profiles. I left a message for Agent Winston informing him of the situation. Should he be inclined, we will further the search when he wakes."

 

"Thank you, Athena." Genji lets out a breath and glances back down at Jesse, who's rocking back and forth in the computer chair as he listens. "And thank you, Jesse McCree."

 

Jesse lets out a _pffbt._ "Shucks, Gen, I ain't done nothin'." He gives his friend an invisible hat tip, grinning. "We're on this road together, partner."

 

Genji laughs, and it's the most human noise he's made in a while. "That we are, my friend. That we are."

 

.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.

 

"McCree, you vreally need to start sleeping better."

 

There is only a grunt as a response.

 

"I can offer some melatonin pills if you believe it vill azist you? Those bags under your eyes are... vorrisome."

 

"I'll get better, doc. I'm still just settlin' into the place."

 

"Vell, I am still sending some to you. You need to be in tip-top shape for when ve start evaluations." Dr. Angela Ziegler is sitting on her doctor's stool with a clipboard in hand, scribbling away at some notes. Her angelic face and light blonde hair tied back into a ponytail are as immaculate as ever. The Swiss accent puts a cute lilt in her choice. If Jesse knew any better, he may have fancied her.

 

Speaking of Jesse, he is currently not in the "tip-top shape" that Angela wishes of him. After he removed himself from Genji's room earlier, he had sauntered back to his own dorm, fallen into his blankets, and drifted into a deep slumber for just a few hours before his alarm went off at 8:00 am to get him up for his checkup. Maybe the tranquility that Genji always exhumes helped finally put peace in the cowboy's mind for the night. Nonetheless, he is suffering from lack of sleep, and he missed breakfast in order to get in another thirty minutes of shut-eye. He's not at his best health; he's slumped over on the patient bed, elbows on knees, head painfully pulsing, and ready to go back to bed. The black tank top and jeans he's wearing feels too tight, and his hat is placed half-assedly on his messy hair.

 

"Did you at least eat a good breakfast?" she asks. _How ironic_.

 

"Uh..." is all Jesse answers, though he doesn't say anything else when he hears the doctor's giggle and is met with blue eyes filled with mirth.

 

"Oh, Jesse. How are you even still functioning?"

 

"Dunno, doc. I ask myself the same question every wakin' minute."

 

"Let's vork on that, okay? I know it's been a long time, but you need to get back into the sving of things." She sets down her clipboard so she can stand and walk over to her medicine cabinet. Jesse rubs his palm over his face a few times, nose feeling itchy. As she rummages around, she continues her inquiries. "Is your prosthetic still comfortable?"

 

He's wearing it now, knowing that she would want to run diagnostics on it. He lifts it and does a thumbs up. "Sure is. Makes me forget I ever lost an arm, 'cept when I get them ghost pains."

 

She has a blue pill bottle in hand when she turns around, and she raises a brow at him questioningly as she steps back to her stool. She sits down and sets the bottle of melatonin on the counter closest to Jesse for him to take with him. "You still get them, do you?" When Jesse nods, she continues. "For some people, it never goes avay, unfortunately. Genji still gets them as vell, but he uses it as a reminder of vhere he started and vhere he is now. Perhaps the two of you could relate to the issue."

 

"Maybe so." The doctor holds out her hand, a silent demand for his prosthetic. He extends it out to her, and she goes into concentration mode as she scans it, running her fingers over the steel plating. The mention of Genji reminds him of the email he showed him, and he gets an itch to bring it up to her. Angela is the one agent who gets up close and personal with everyone, thus she's the most trustworthy person at the Watchpoint. Not that everyone here wasn't trustworthy -- he's committed his life to them -- he just knows that she will found out soon enough, so he lets it fall from his lips. "We think we got his brother's location."

 

Too into her work, it takes Angela a moment before it hits her. She glances up at him, eyes wide with interest, though she still inspects the arm as she speaks. "Do you vreally? I thought Genji had given up so he could focus on Overwatch."

 

"Yeah, he did." Jesse sees a flash of silver as Angela retrieves a small tool from the breast pocket of her coat. It's a screwdriver. "There's an outside source and an anonymous email. Someone spotted Hanzo, tracked him, stalked him -- I dunno -- then hacked some s'curity cameras. There's pictures n' everyth-- woah, there!" Jesse yelps; she had twisted a screw on one of his artificial tendons too tight, making his fingers jolt at the sudden painful tug in the connected nerves.

 

"Sorry! Sorry, Jesse, I vas making sure it vas secure." The pain subsides when she stops, and Jesse lets out a huff. "You may continue."

 

"Ain't much else t'say," he mutters and keeps watch on what she's doing now. "Whoever it is, they know their way 'round our systems 'cause they got Genji's information somehow. Means they know 'bout everyone here, pro'lly."

 

"Flex." He begins flexing the fingers in unison, and she lets out a thoughtful hum. "How do you know they do not mean harm, especially so soon after the Reaper infiltration?"

 

"This don't seem like Talon's way of doin' things. I just got a gut feelin', and I always trust my gut."

 

"Then, you should take care of it properly and eat right." Done with her inspection, she sits straight and puts her screwdriver back in the pocket. "But I digress. This John Doe has definitely breached high levels of reinforced security. The last thing ve need is to be doxxed!"

 

"We made sure Athena amped up the firewalls. She's keepin' a sharper eye out. 'sides, if they wanted t'do somethin' like that, they would've already."

 

"You could be right, or, alternatively, they could be enforcing a squad to infiltrate us." Jesse opens his mouth to interject, but Angela holds up a finger to stop him. "The two of you should inform Vinston of this email A-S-A-P. Ve do not need someone out there vith too much information. You know vhy, don't you?" He nods and respectfully says a, _Yes, ma'am_. She picks up her clipboard and flips the page over the clasp, her pen clicking a second later. "Now, to the boring part of my job. Are you sexually active?"

 

It's the same answer as it has been since he's been going to her for checkups, as are most of the responses he gives. "Nah."

As soon as they finish up the questionnaire, Jesse takes his leave, not before grabbing the pill bottle and keeping them safe in his pocket. They rattle when he walks. When he's outside the door, he yawns and begins to make his way towards the mess hall to grab some grub. Of course, he's interrupted when Athena's voice echoes over the comms. "Agent McCree, Agent Winston is requesting your presence in Conference Room A."

 

 _Guess I shoulda expected that._ "Do I have time for some coffee?" he sighs, stopping in his tracks to rub his tired eyes. "Need me a caffeine fix, to be quite honest."

 

There's a fleeting silence as the AI is no doubt asking Winston if his permission for coffee is granted. "Negative. You are needed immediately."

 

"O' course," he grumbles, then reluctantly turns on his heel and makes his way through the base towards the conference room. As he steps outside the medical building, the crisp Gibraltar air hits him, and he can smell the salty aroma of the Mediterranean Sea in the gentle morning breeze. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air in hopes it relieves some of his exhaustion. It does no such thing. The minute he uses the palm reader to enter the main building, he hears shouting from Conference Room A. He's afraid for a moment until he recognizes the voices: Reinhardt and Torbjörn, the most boisterous pair of men Jesse has ever met. When he enters the room, he also notices Genji and Brigitte sitting across from the two men at the conference table, and Winston is standing at the head of them in front of a projector. The pictures of Hanzo are cast side-by-side on the large white wall, and all of them turn their gazes from it to see who's walking through the door.

 

"McCree!" Reinhardt is the first to greet him, lifting his large hand for a wave, and his loud gravelly voice isn't doing any wonders for Jesse's headache. Despite his age, he's a hunk of pure muscle, which is especially evident in the too-small t-shirt that has _**German Engineered**_ in bulky italicized lettering printed across his pecs. His jovial face surrounded by a silver mane beams a grin as everyone else nods or waves. "Velcome to the party!"

 

"Heh, happy t'be here." That's all he says on that subject as he takes the seat next to Genji and points a thumb towards the illuminated pictures. "Guessin' y'all seen the email?"

 

"Aye, that we did," Torbjörn says. Jesse yet again takes note of the two elder men's size difference and ponders if he'll ever get used to it. _Like lookin' between a stallion n' a damn pug_. "Dunno why we're all just sitting around, though; no one's supposed ta know a damn thing about us, least of all our private mailing addresses. Someone's been snooping in our files!"

 

Winston grunts, obviously disagreeing. "As I've said, neither I or Athena have found evidence of an intrusion into our networks. While the security footage has obviously been acquired by unauthorized standards, their procurement of Overwatch and its agents was not directed from our systems."

 

"I believe I have a solution to that unknown, Agent Winston." Athena's voice cuts through before anyone else can speak up. "While I was not able to track where the email was delivered, I am able to determine what was used to send it."

 

"How?" Winston asks.

 

"The cellular phone used did not give an alert to our network security while 'hacking' into agent files because it was coming from an authorized device. Therefore, an agent apparatus was used -- or at least a simulation of one."

 

"If it's connected to an agent, can we find out who?" Brigitte speaks up for the first time.

 

"I cannot do that, either, which makes me further believe this was conducted on a third party device. Since none of the agents have access to all of Overwatch's data on their personal phone, this does mean that they were only allowed access to information that was available, so very sensitive material was not revealed to them."

 

"Wait," Jesse interjects, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on the table. "Yer sayin' they're on one of our phones, right?"

 

"A simulation or perhaps a mirror of one, yes."

 

"So, how in the hell did they get a simulation o' one if they never even seen one? Ain't there a bunch o' exclusive programming you pumped into these doohickeys?" He had extracted his own phone from his pocket and is now waving it around.

 

"You are correct. How they accessed such programs... I do not know."

 

Suddenly, Brigitte perks up, making everyone's attention go to her. "Oj! Pappa! Do you remember when you dropped your phone in Sweden?"

 

Torbjörn's one eye goes wide, both brows raising. "I do -- at that coffee shop we went to on my first morning there."

 

"And someone picked it up for you?"

 

"Aye... they did..."

 

"It vas so quick, though," Reinhardt adds. He had accompanied Torbjörn on a trip to Sweden to settle things at the engineer's lab before coming back officially to Gibraltar. That's where he picked up Brigitte and the Bastion unit -- which is in some secured part of the Watchpoint that Jesse can't currently think of -- he had been housing and keeping safe. "There's no vay they could have done that much in just a few measly seconds."

 

"Unless they got somethin' we ain't expectin'." Jesse grunts. "Seems t'be happenin' to us a lot. Anyone else had their phone touched by a stranger?" Everyone shakes their head in unison. "So, our only lead is Torb's mysterious phone 'savior.' Y'all remember what they looked like?"

 

"It was a woman," Torbjörn explains, brows knitted as he thinks. "Short gray hair but young. Real pretty and polite -- definitely didn't expect any foul play. I'd recognize her if I saw her again."

 

Genji had been silent the entire time, attentively listening. It is now that he finally puts in his two cents. "It may take weeks for us to find this person, but my brother is right here in front of my eyes." He gestures up to the still-projected photos. "I request permission to release myself and a small squad to go investigate the Bulaklak Hotel before he is on the move again."

 

"Ve still don't know if this is a trap!" Reinhardt protests. "It's too dangerous, especially since ve haven't gone public yet. A squad of ex-Overwatch members vill bring too much attention."

 

"Then, we send only two people," Jesse says. "Me and Genji. Once Lena arrives, she can get us through borders usin' one o' the stealth jets. We fly in, get us a room at some other hotel down the road, scope out the place, n' see if we can get our own eyes on Hanzo. If it is a trap, we're either handlin' it ourselves or findin' out who it is and retreatin'. If not, we got us a long lost brother. A win/win, if ya ask me."

 

"And what if ya get caught?" Torbjörn challenges.

 

"I got quite a specialty in bein' discrete. We land somewhere far off and hidden and walk the rest o' the way, jus' come in like any other tourist."

 

"Are we even ready for an ops mission?" Brigitte wonders aloud, and it's a good question. The group is focusing on settling back into things and getting everyone back into shape; there's been no training or evaluations, just visits with the doctor and meetings like the one now. Agents have been trickling in: first, it was Angela, then Torbjörn, Reinhardt, and Brigitte all together, Genji and Zenyatta a week later, and lastly Jesse. Lena was tying loose ends in London before departing and will be here tomorrow. They aren't a team quite yet, just veterans housing in one of their old bases. "I mean, if it's really Genji's brother and not a hoax, then it's just a simple pick up... but if not, we have an unknown enemy here and a fight we haven't prepared for."

 

"I am certain that it is my brother," Genji states flatly. "My body may be gone, but my eyes still do not deceive me."

 

"And if they're using him as bait...?"

 

"We will be careful and rational. There will be constant updates directly from either me or Jesse, and we will go through with his plan."

 

"Is it really vorth the risk, though?" Reinhardt pipes in.

 

Jesse points out before anyone can answer the question, "Think about it, fellas. The PETRAS Act states that no Overwatch activity is allowed. Ain't no law against a couple o' old work pals goin' to the Philippines to see the sights and visit family. Until there's guns blazin', we ain't goin' against any laws, 'cept flyin' dirty, but Lena can handle it. Y'all are jus' overthinkin' it, honestly."

 

"I agree with Agent McCree," Athena announces. "While we do have an unknown, I do not believe that they are hostile. They could easily have attacked my systems already and obviously have the technology to do so, but they haven't. I also think that having a skilled fighter such as Shimada Hanzo on our side will be beneficial to our cause and team composition."

 

Winston sits back on his haunches and adjusts his glasses. "Athena is right. This isn't a massive effort; it can be done within 48 hours. I can inform Tracer of the situation and have her drop the two of you in Cebu as soon as possible."

 

"Guess it's settled, then," Torbjörn sighs. "The twerps are going ta the Philippines!"

 

Genji's attitude seems much more relaxed and upbeat, even with his face hidden, as Jesse flashes him a grin and pats his shoulder. "Gonna feel good t'work with ya again, buddy."

 

Genji turns and bows his head towards Jesse, a gesture of gratitude. "You as well, McCree."

 

They went over the details of the plan again, making sure everyone was comfortable with this mini mission the two of them were going to act out, and even video called Lena to see if she was prepared to fly as soon as she arrived at the Watchpoint. She seemed far more enthusiastic than her fellow European squadmates. Soon after, they all went their separate ways. Jesse immediately made his way back to the mess hall and refreshed his Filippino vocabulary over a bowl of grits and a mug of black coffee.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo meets an unlikely stranger and is faced with a ghost from his past.

Light from the sunrise filters through the crack in the curtains as an alarm fills the room with a mellow melodious tone. Hanzo stirs awake and mumbles a quiet curse as he swipes the alarm off. He raises on the edge of the bed, does a single yawn and stretch, and gets up to start his morning like any other.  
  
First, he showers. The warm water running through his hair and hitting his skin rouses his tired mind. He cleans himself, then dries off before brushing his teeth with the towel wrapped around his waist as the steam settles away in the small hotel bathroom. The fact that he never truly makes eye contact with his reflection is something that he ignores; it's an everyday routine, after all. Done with cleaning duties, he steps back into the room to dress with the last set of clean clothes in his luggage: a pair of boxer briefs, comfortable but form-fitting jeans, and a loose dark blue v-neck. The yellow patterned ribbon is peeking out from its hiding spot in a secret pouch at the bottom of his suitcase. He momentarily runs a finger across the soft fabric, wishing to wear it and his robes once more but knowing he can't. He closes the lid before he can dwell on it any longer.  
  
The hotel room is nothing to truly admire. _It's tacky_ , Hanzo would describe it, _but affordable and popular_. The beige walls are barren save a simple manufactured art piece with the outline of downtown Cebu City inked onto the canvas. Under it is a desk, and on top of the desk is the room service list, a phone, and a lamp. Hanzo is sitting on the brown floral bedding as he slides his socks to his ankles. He is half an hour away from going to grab some breakfast, but first, he takes a pillow from the bed and walks over to lay it near the window. Cracking the curtains just enough for a pleasant amount of sunlight into the area, he silently mourns the loss of his favorite zabuton back home.  
  
The sun feels rejuvenating against his face. He brushes his still-dripping hair behind his ears before kneeling down on the pillow, expertly performing the seiza-style that his father taught him many years ago. His eyes drift close as he takes a deep breath. Thoughts slowly begin fading away while he's dragged into a peaceful meditation.  
  
Thirty minutes pass. Another alarm rings through the room right on time. The sound brings Hanzo back down to consciousness, and he stands to grab a hair tie, which he uses to pull his hair back in a low but meticulous bun (he doesn't even need to look in the mirror anymore), his hoodie, and his oxfords. His mind feels fully awake now, allowing him to officially kick off his day.  
  
There is a café four blocks down from the Bulaklak Hotel that he's gone to every morning he's been in Cebu City. It's a busy little establishment with a menu of authentic Brazilian dishes and a coffee bar fully stocked with a variety of roasts, all of which fill the air with a spiced aroma. Mixed with the sound of sizzling of meats and potatoes from the open kitchen, the low murmur of conversing patrons welcomes a sense of comfort in him. The atmosphere is natural and rustic with subtle Latin themes, something that's not as frequent in Japan, and he enjoys the foreign feel. He requests a booth in the quietest corner just like the previous mornings, and the hostess recognizes him with a,  _Welcome back, sir!_ when he lets the hood fall down to his shoulders. Not wanting to be rude, he smiles as she leads him over.  
  
He always tries something new when he comes here. Today, it's a plate of migas and a mug of medium roast caramel-infused coffee. It's been his favorite yet.  
  
It dawns on him as he pays his bill and leaves the restaurant that he's already been here for nearly a month, the longest he's stayed in one place since he's been freelance. He doesn't know why he didn't think of that before; he actually enjoys the Philippines, so much so that the thought of having to leave actually disappoints him. Cebu City, in particular, is a beautiful city, but it's not overly crowded. The population and tourist appeal is just enough that he can weave through the streets unnoticed and unperturbed. He is accustomed to years of stability, strict schedules, and constants within the Shimada-gumi and not used to traveling the extent of Asia on the run from his formerly beloved family that may be dead or not even on his trail. He is still unsure of the fate of the clan. It'll probably be a good idea to plan for the next town to stay, either way, so he searches for the nearest park on his phone and walks to it after raising his hood back on his head.  
  
_Perhaps being in the public eye isn't safe_ , a logical part of his brain worries, but in all honesty, he's tired of being on the run and always in hiding. He hasn't even uttered his real name in months; losing the Shimada family also meant losing his identity, and it put an empty pit inside of his soul. The only reminders of who he was are the tattoo coiling up his left arm and his Storm Bow, though he hasn't even touched it in a few weeks since he hasn't been feeling up to taking on any mercernery jobs lately. He misses feeling the bowstring go taut in his fingers, the moment that time stops as he trains his eye on his target(s), the feeling of satisfaction as the arrowhead pierces its victim. It's times like these when he's sitting alone (in this case, on a park bench) and reminiscing on his current situation that he has a deep insatiable longing for the company of his brother. They had differences, sure, but the younger Shimada always had an open ear for the elder no matter what or when it was.  
  
Those feelings along with many others are locked away behind his stoic expression. His eyes are glued to his phone as he searches cheap plane tickets and hotel rates in Chiang Mai when, suddenly, someone was speaking to him.  
  
"'scuse me, sir, you speak English?"  
  
His eyes dart up immediately, instinctually on the defensive, and is met with an unfamiliar face. Chocolate eyes surrounded by tanned skin under thick brown hair and beard are looking down at him, sparkling with hospitality and a mixture of something desperate. _American, obviously. They would never hire an American._  
  
"I do," he says simply.  
  
The stranger's face lights up, and he shows off a toothy grin. "Finally! Asked 'bout a dozen others before you. All of 'em looked at me like I was some creep -- which I'm not! Promise." He chuckles a little awkwardly as he scratches under his beard. Hanzo notices the prosthetic hand mostly hidden under a longsleeved red sweater. "Y'see, my phone's dead, n' I left my wallet in my pal's car. Can't get anywhere without it. Mind if I use yers to call him?"  
  
He points down to the cellphone, which had gone to sleep as the man drawled on, still in Hanzo's hand. Hanzo quirks a brow, musing on the stranger's request. "... I suppose," he mutters, then turns his phone back on to open the keypad so he can hand him the device. "Do not try anything funny."  
  
Despite the seriousness in his tone, the American laughs as if it's a joke. It makes Hanzo's lip twitch. "N' what if everythin' I do is funny?" He snorts. "Jus' kiddin', big guy. I'm not gonna take advantage of yer kindness." He takes the phone and begins dialing the number. "Be done in a jiffy."  
  
Hanzo has met a few Westerners in his lifetime, but this one was definitely the most peculiar. The accent and raspy voice sound like it's recorded straight from an old cowboy movie. _Is that his shtick?_ The gestures he makes as he talks are dramatic, hand waving around and boots kicking the grass. _Boots. Cowboy boots. Even has the spikey... things on the heel. Kind of an outdated concept, is it not?_  
  
He then remembers that his primary past time is using a bow and arrow and feels foolish for thinking that way. Sometimes, the oldies are still goodies.  
  
"... in yer car, yes... Yeah, I'm an idiot! No need t'rub it in, ya know." He's facing Hanzo again as he rolls his eyes to whoever he's speaking. "The only park downtown, uh huh... A'ight, see ya then." He hangs up the line then steps back over in front of the bench to hand the phone back. Hanzo takes it gratefully with a soft, _Thank you_ ; he wishes this exchange to be over now.  
  
"No, thank you, mister...?" the American trails off in an attempt to ask the other's name. This was the last thing he wanted to give a stranger today, so he sticks with his alias.  
  
"Hagachi."  
  
"Well, it's been a pleasure, Mr. Hagachi. You saved my damn life today. Maybe one day I'll save yers." He gives Hanzo a wink as he nods his head a single time. "Have a good afternoon."  
  
Hanzo does nothing but nod back and lower his gaze. He listens as the clanking of his boots begin walking away before continuing his research in peace.  
  
          .▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.  
  
The text doesn't send until 10:00 P.M. on the dot later that night. Hanzo is already in bed wearing just his silk pajama pants when the notification dings from the bedside table. Expecting nothing of it, he picks up the phone to inspect it.  
  
**Know u said no funny business. But I got someone who wants 2 meet u.**  
  
Hanzo blinks as he rereads the message. Someone wants to meet him? What? It doesn't sound good; it triggers his fight or flight response, anxiety hitching in his throat.  
  
**Who are you, and why are you texting me??**  
  
While waiting for an answer, he decides to compare the sender's number with the call log from earlier. They are the same. _So the American did have a hidden agenda. Typical._  
  
The next text only takes twenty seconds to come through.  
  
**Who I am don't matter. I'm just trying 2 get a family reunion going. Ur brother says hello.**  
  
That one word -- _brother_ \-- sends Hanzo's already heightened heart rate up through the charts. _There's no way it's him. How could he have found me? Why would he come all the way here?_  
  
**I do not believe you. Please stop messaging me, or I will block your number.**  
  
The response is immediate.  
  
**Figured u'd say that. I ain't lying, Hanzo. I'm just trying 2 help.**  
  
_He knows my name_. The thought keeps replaying in his head. _He knows my name, and he knows I have a brother. How? Why?_  
  
He decides to not reply right away. His mouth is going dry, and he rolls out of the bed, grabs a complimentary cup from the small coffee station, and fills it with tap water. He gulps it down in a matter of seconds. The phone vibrates again in his clammy hand.  
  
**Genji just wants 2 talk. Y'all need 2 talk. We got a room right down the street. I can send u the address right now. Meet us, plz?**  
  
He cannot fully grasp what is happening right now. Of course, he knows his brother is alive; that night that happened four months prior to now is still fresh in his brain. The look in Genji's eyes haunts him every waking minute. _He was dead. But those eyes were alive like they were the day that I... I... Dammit_. Ten years later and it's still hard to come to terms with what happened.  
  
**Are the two of you alone?**  
  
His thumb lingers over the paper plane representing the send button. He knew this day was coming but was not prepared for it to be now. He finally decides to send it, and he drops the phone so it clatters on the sink in front of him. Bracing his hands against the corner of the countertop, he releases a shaky breath... then tilts his head up enough that he's looking at a near-emotionless mirrored image of himself. His laugh lines have deepened, and there's a promise of crows feet where his eyelids meet. Shoulder length black hair, choppy and messy from when it was tied back, is graying at the thin roots. He's aging, he realizes. He's nearly a middle-aged man and barely has a thing to his name, just dwindling credits, no friends to speak of, and no family. _Except for Genji,_ he reminds himself. _Except for my brother._  
  
The sound of the phone buzzing loudly in the ceramic sink startles him. He glances down at it briefly and back up to his reflection. _Brother killer._ The words are a knife through his heart. _You killed your brother, and now you have to face his ghost._  
  
He quickly grabs the phone to read the message, afraid of what else his subconscious will tell him.  
  
**Yea, just the 2 of us.**  
  
**Send me the location, then. If you've hurt him, I will kill you, American.**  
  
**Just call me Jesse, sweetums. ;) Don't worry. Ninja boy is safe. Cebu R Hotel, room 326.**  
  
The lighthearted way this stranger -- Jesse, apparently -- was handling the situation irritated Hanzo to no end. _This is a very sensitive matter, and he is jesting? Who does he think he is?_ He decides not to give him the satisfaction of a response and instead pushes himself away from the sink to start getting redressed. Might as well get this over and done.  
  
While he slips back into his clothes from earlier and ties up his hair, he wonders how this is going to pan out. This Jesse person is a new addition to the problem. Why didn't Genji contact him on his own volition? Why have some half-witted fool who knows nothing of the situation be the messenger? That is considering Genji didn't tell him the full story, but the more he thinks about it, the more unlikely that seems. Jesse knows what he has done and is acting like it's no big deal. _Annoying_.  
  
He grabs his room key and slides it into his pocket, ready to leave. He feels afraid, a little shocked, and uncertain what the night holds for him. His hand is on the doorknob when he is suddenly reminded of something and peeks over at the closet directly to his right. There are five seconds of hesitation before he's opening the closet, grabbing the large bow case inside and looping the strap over his shoulder, and departing from the hotel armed and ready.  
  
The Cebu R Hotel is only a ten-minute walk from the Bulaklak. He muses over how long the duo could have been here watching his every move, but he's mostly confused about how they found him. No one has recognized or communicated with him in almost a year; he is always on the move and never even utters a prayer about the Shimadas. What makes now different?  
  
As he enters the rather small hotel, the receptionist offers a smile and wave on his way to the elevator. Aside from customary eye contact, he gives her no other reaction. The elevator closes as a yellow 3 lights up on the console when he presses it maybe too hastily and harsh. His blood is pumping so wildly that he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, antsy of what's to come.  
  
The elevator opens. Signs point him in the direction of the twenty-sixth room on the floor. The hallway appears to stretch longer and longer as he walks, heels of his shoes lightly scrunching the carpet, so he focuses his eyes on reading the even room numbers instead. _#316. #318. #320. #322. #324._  
  
_#326._  
  
Hanzo gulps. His hands feel tingly. Throat muscles constrict when he inhales. The dragons are whispering in his subconscious. They know their brother is near.  
  
The door opening without even a knock snaps him out of his daze, and his reflexes make him tighten his grip on the strap of his case, ready to unzip it at a moment's notice. Through a small crack in the door, the face of the stranger from earlier comes into view. Hanzo inspects him back (he's just in a white t-shirt and yellow pajama pants now, not visibly armed), not saying a thing, just glaring.  
  
"... So, you brought yer bow?" A bushy brow raises as he gestures with his head towards his hand that's clinging to the strap.  
  
Hanzo scowls. "Of course I did. I do not trust you." Eyes flicker between the man and what little he can see in the room. "Where is he?"  
  
"Huh." There's a huffed laugh as the American turns away. "Genji? You decent?"  
  
"I am," says someone else from inside the room. "Just let him in, Jesse."  
  
The door slowly swings open as Jesse steps out of the way. He smiles faintly, a welcome for Hanzo to walk in. Before he does, he arches his head inside and looks around the inside of the room, searching for anything out of place. Nothing is. He doesn't see Genji yet; he must be on the bed hidden by the hall entrance. He swallows thickly again, then takes the first steps inside the room. The walls are a light gray and black furniture surrounds the area. The bathroom is directly to the right, and past the bathroom, two sets of beds are lined against the wall. Jesse closes the door behind them and waits patiently for the brothers to reunite.  
  
Genji had perched himself cross-legged in the middle of the rightmost twin bed. A robotic hand and a flesh hand are placed on each respective knee. He's unarmored, Hanzo notices. What's metal and wires is... _him_. The heavily scarred skin of his bare left pectoral and arm, dim eyes, and tufts of black hair are _him_. It was a picture Hanzo will have to get accustomed to. This was not the young and lively Genji he knew anymore. This was someone new.  
  
Neither of them speak. The Storm Bow feels unnaturally heavy on his back, so he lets it fall off his shoulder and tumble against the floor. Genji just eyes him from head to toe, also noting the differences in his brother. _I wonder what he thinks of me. I am probably not well-kempt currently._  
  
It hasn't been long since he's entered the room, but Hanzo forgot that Jesse was still in there with them, presumably looming awkwardly behind him. The intrusive cough rudely reminds him, however. "I, uh, I guess I should give y'all some privacy. You fellas need anythin' from the store?"  
  
Genji shakes his head. "No, but thank you. Message me when you are on your way back."  
  
Hanzo's stillness is his answer.  
  
"Arright... I'll be goin', then," he mumbles. There's rustling as he's no doubt slipping on some shoes, then the sound of the door opening and closing.  
  
Hanzo waits until they're alone before he speaks in their native tongue. "So he is not keeping you hostage."  
  
He doesn't expect the laugh that comes from Genji, and he responds also in Japanese. "Jesse is my friend. We came here together."  
  
"Together? This is the type of company you keep now?" He juts a thumb towards the door.  
  
"It is. We work together, actually, so it was moreso a happenstance."  
  
Hanzo's eyes narrow as he's still wary of the situation. "And how did the two of you find me? Happenstance?"  
  
"No. We didn't find you at all. Someone else did and pointed us in the right direction."  
  
"Who was it, then?"  
  
"I do not know. The other agents are currently working on that answer. I have not received an update in some time..." Genji glances in his peripheral to the nightstand where his phone lays.  
  
"Other agents?" Hanzo scoffs and crosses his arms. "What, are you apart of the PSIA now?"  
  
The smile on Genji's face is small and amused, but he doesn't answer the question. "Please, take a seat. I will explain everything." He holds out a hand towards the bed opposite of him.  
  
Hanzo obliges. His posture is straight and dignified as he lowers himself on the bed, cautious eyes trained on his brother. Genji stays directed away from him, and Hanzo is able to see more details of this new cybernetic body. There's a gut wrenching sense of shame that washes over him, making him quickly look away.  
  
"Before I begin, I want to remind you that I have forgiven you. I've found peace within myself, and thus, I hold no grudges. I realize that this story may be senstive to you... Even so, I believe it is necessary for our path towards normalcy. If at any point you wish for me to stop, just let me know. Understood?" Hanzo doesn't falter from staring blankly at the wall to the left of him. A fist clenches the jeans on his thigh as he nods brisquely.   
  
Genji takes a deep breath and starts. "Ten years ago, on that day, I was accepting my inevitable demise. You had bested me as I always knew you would." Hanzo's muscles grow taut, but he says nothing. "To any doctor, I was a lost cause... but I was not treated by just any doctor. Angela Ziegler of Overwatch was the one who brought me back to life. At the time, Overwatch was concerned about the affairs of the Shimada-gumi, afraid they would be disruptive to the peace, and had sent covert agents to Hanamura to keep an eye on our operations. Ultimately, they received an alert from their security systems that I had lost in battle. The group of agents -- Jesse was in the mix as just a trainee at the time -- rushed in to take my body and airlift it to the headquarters in Switzerland where Dr. Ziegler was stationed. There, I, who was teetering on consciousness with only adrenaline keeping me alive, was given a choice: a peaceful death or a chance to live and fight for them. With them." He pauses as he looks down at his body; he twists his torso, making the mechanics stretch in their own way. Hanzo finally looks over at him just in time to see a faint smile on Genji's face. "I, of course, chose the latter. Weeks upon weeks of operations, surgeries, diagnostics, tests... and this is how I came out. Half man, half machine.  
  
"This did bring about new emotions I had to come to terms with, however. Initially, I was just thankful to be alive. My new body was light, nimble, and quick, making all of my abilities even stronger than they were previously. My stamina had me training for hours without end. By my nature, I should have loved it, but... I didn't. After a while, I began to hate it. I hated myself because I was not 'myself' anymore. I hated you for a long time as well for... making me like this. Overwatch was training me to kill off the Shimada-gumi, thus I did have plans to kill you, though after we learned that you had left the clan, I did not follow through... luckily." He shakes his head. "I was filled with rage back then because I harbored no love for my new lifestyle. Eventually, after all of the Shimada were dead, I had to leave the team. I thanked them for everything, then departed to find my own path."  
  
Genji continues on about his journey of self acceptance which had him travelling nearly every corner of the world. As Hanzo listens intently, nerves slowly easing as he's in his brother's company ( _It is easier than I first expected_.), the younger sibling depicts his first meeting with the Shambali monk Zenyatta in Numbani. The monk allowed Genji to take safe harbor in his temple and offered to take him under his wing. Genji was apprehensive at first, but he soon became one of the most highly regarded students under Zenyatta. The ways of the Shambali was just what the younger Shimada needed to finally overcome his inner demons. Hanzo could see it in his brother's mannerisms: there was peace in his eyes and a newfound maturity that Hanzo thought he'd never learn. He felt a sense of pride for that.  
  
"My master has an amazing soul," Genji says quietly. There's a shift in his tone as he finishes his long-winded story. "You should meet him. He accompanied me back to Gibraltar to lend his assistance to Overwatch. He could help you with whatever troubles you're having. Everyone there could."  
  
A brow raises on Hanzo's face. He had gotten more comfortable as time ticked by, not as tense as he was when he first entered the room; his ankles were crossed over one another, and his hands were resting in his hoodie pouch. Though, when he realized what Genji was suggesting, an uneasiness settled back inside the pit of his stomach. "You're saying I should come with you?"  
  
"I am. My fellow team members are amazing people; they're passionate, full of determination and love for what the world could be. They would accept you--"  
  
"No. Stop." Hanzo holds up a hand to further reaffirm what he's saying. "I have no wish to commit myself to anyone, much less your Overwatch."  
  
Genji sighs and straightens out his legs so he can slide them off the edge of the bed turn his body to fully face Hanzo. Their eyes meet, and Hanzo raises his chin to assert his defiance. "Hanzo... you cannot continue living like this. You have no home anymore and no where else to go. Soon, that fortune you received will be nothing but pennies. I implore you to at least come to Gibraltar, see what it's like, have a safe place to stay, and be yourself around good people, at least for a while."  
  
Hanzo's nostrils flare as he starts bouncing his foot. _He's right. I have less than a year's worth of funds, and I do not have it in me to be a killer-for-hire anymore... and what about after the money is gone? Who am I to be, then?_  
  
He opens his mouth to answer him but is stopped when Genji's phone begins ringing loudly to the side of them. He purses his lips as his brother picks it up and answers in English.  
  
"Hello? ... Yes, we are finishing up. ... That's fine. Come on up. The two of you should formally meet if he's done being a grump." Genji gives Hanzo a teasing grin. _Guess he hasn't completely change_ d. "Alright, Jesse. Bye." He hangs up, then talks to him again. "He will be here shortly. Maybe he can help convince you."  
  
"I..." Hanzo sighs and reaches up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "That's... not necessary. I will go with you, Genji. But if I do not like it--"  
  
"Bro! That's wonderful!" Genji is already off the bed and lurching himself into a tight embrace with the elder Shimada. Hanzo goes stiff, and his breath gets caught in his throat. Though he mostly feels the ice cold touch of metal pressing against him, there's a warm hand on the back of his neck and cheek buried into the crook of his shoulder. He can smell the familiar musk in his hair, very human and very homey. "You're going to love it. I promise."  
  
Hanzo slowly eases into his brother's arms and wraps his own around him, hands firmly planted on each shoulder blade. A wave of emotion engulfs him. When was the last time anyone held him like this? When was the last time he was able to lovingly touch one of his own kin? Surprisingly, tears begin to threaten to spill from the corner of his eyes; his fingers begin to clench as he tries to force them away. _Weakling. Don't cry. You are unworthy of this kind of affection. Push him away and leave._  
  
But he does no such thing. He is able to not completely break down in a sob, but a single tear does trail down his cheek, which he quickly wipes away before Genji extracts himself and stands excitedly in front of him. The light in his eyes and smile is brighter than the lights in the room around them. Hanzo offers a weak smile in return and is glad that the glisten in his eyes goes unnoticed.  
  
"... I suppose I am excited to meet this... Overwatch," he murmurs. "I do not know how I feel about this Jesse character, though."  
  
As if on cue, the door knob starts rattling as someone is inserting a key and twisting it open. Hanzo lowers his head and keeps quiet as Genji skips on over to greet whoever it is. Of course, it's Jesse. _Speak of the devil, and he shall appear._  
  
"Heya, Gen," Jesse greets with a big smile. From where Hanzo is sitting, he can note that the American has very damp hair, and the bag of items he's carrying is dripping water. "Had t'rush in here since it started rainin' on me."  
  
"I'm sorry about that," Genji says worriedly. He places a hand on Jesse's shoulder and urges him further into the room. "I'll get you a towel. Come in; get acquainted with Hanzo. He's made his decision to fly back with us tomorrow."  
  
"That so?" Jesse glances over to Hanzo as if he completely forgot that he was even here. Genji disappears into the bathroom. "So, I don't need t'pull out my southern charm to woo you into comin' along?"  
  
"Tch." Hanzo lets out a disgruntled huff as Jesse takes a seat in one of the black cloth chairs against the wall opposite of the beds. "Completely unnecessary, no matter my decision."  
  
"Sounds like yer underestimatin' me." He pulls out a bag of barbeque flavored chips and noisily opens them before leaning back haphazardly in the chair, legs splayed out. _Such a lack of class, even in the presence of a stranger._ "I'll have ya know, I can be quite persuasive."  
  
Hanzo gives him a very noticeable once-over, looking unimpressed. "Really? I haven't noticed." It's said jokingly, but he's dead serious.  
  
Genji walks back in with a towel and tosses it in Jesse's direction. A chip dangling between his teeth, he catches it with catlike reflexes. "Why, thank ya," he drawls with the chip half-eaten in his mouth. Genji chuckles and sits back on the bed as Jesse shakes the towel through his hair, little water droplets flying every which way. "Woulda worn my hat if it didn't make me stick out like a sore thumb."  
  
"You always stick out," Genji teases.  
  
"Agreed. Perhaps this cowboy disguise isn't the best option to stay incognito in a place like this," Hanzo adds before he crosses his arms.  
  
Genji snorts as if he's trying to hold back an uncontrollable laugh. Jesse suddenly stops drying his hair, looking at him with a mien that seems a little... hurt? Hanzo glances between the two of them, confused about what the big deal is.  
  
"Ahaha... um, it ain't a disguise Han-- Shimada-san," Jesse says, embarrassed. "Damn. Here I thought I was tonin' it down."  
  
Hanzo's gaze flits over to Genji, who's still holding back a laugh, for confirmation on the situation. "He-he really is always like this," he chortles. "It's really bad when he's not trying to be discrete."  
  
"Oh." Hanzo feels himself get embarrassed as well. His attention is back on Jesse, but he avoids eye contact as he bows his head. "My apologies. I meant no offense."  
  
Jesse still looks quite pained, eye brows arched downward with a slight frown tugging on his lips, though he looks like some sort of sad puppy with the towel draped over his head. It makes it hard for Hanzo to take him seriously, especially coupled with the fact that he is, indeed, a serious cowboy. "It's whatever. We should probably go over the plan for t'morrow, yeah?"  
  
"Yes, we should." Genji goes along with it. "I have already messaged Winston and Lena of the current standing of things. Lena will be at the rendezvous point at noon on the dot, but we should arrive there early so we can board the jet and get out as soon as possible." He turns to Hanzo. "Can you meet us here tomorrow at 10:30 a.m.?"  
  
Hanzo nods. "Yes."  
  
"Okay, then. We should probably get some rest. Jet lag has gotten to me these past few days."  
  
"Ditto," Jesse agrees. "'specially if we're flyin' in the mornin'."  
  
"I suppose I should take my leave, then." Hanzo stands from where he is sitting and approaches the discarded bow case to toss it over his shoulder again. "I will see the two of you in the morning."

"Alright, Hanzo." Genji stands after him and holds out his arms. The elder Shimada stands there for a moment, hesitating, then steps into his brother's arms once again, returning it with one hand since the other is occupied with his case. Genji continues as they hug, "Get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

"Will do," Hanzo grumbles, feeling an inkling of the same emotions that he did during their previous embrace. He pushes away before the urgentness of tears again and nods to the two other men. "Good night."

"'Night, Shimada-san."

"Good night, anija."

That word doesn't sit well in Hanzo's ears. He turns and leaves to retire for the evening, and when he's in bed later that night, he notices he's filled with a happiness he hasn't felt in a very long time. Still, he falls asleep to the ever plaguing negative thoughts of his subconscious:  _You are unworthy... undeserving..._

But he's selfish and doesn't even care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more McHanzo goodness in the following chapters lol it's been fun writing this though ♡♡♡ Thanks to all who read!!!


	3. Unexpected Visitor

_Dunno what I think about this guy. Seems kinda shifty. Guess I would be, too, if I've been on the run for ten years n' was suddenly found outta nowhere. Wonder where he's been all this time. Guess I could ask... or is that too invasive? I don't wanna insult him, even if he--_  
  
"Must you continue staring at me, American?"  
  
Jesse is snapped out of his thoughts when the deep voice belonging to the man across from him speaks up. He didn't even realize he was staring. The seat harness feels constricting now as he shifts uncomfortably in a seat in the small cargo hold of the stealth jet; Genji is keeping Lena company in the cockpit, leaving Jesse alone with Hanzo, who's been silent the past ten minutes since they've departed the Philippines. Until now. He's looking at Jesse with that intense glower of his as if he's critiquing every move he makes. It's the exact same look he gave him at the park yesterday, which makes Jesse come to terms with the fact that Hanzo is just a natural mean mugger.  
  
"Err... sorry. Jus' kinda zoned out there," Jesse mutters as he averts his attention towards the front of the plane.  
  
"Right." There's a lingering silence between them for a few seconds. One of Lena's loud laughs cuts through, muffled by the cockpit door and low hum of engines. "... My brother seems to enjoy the company of this team."  
  
_Now he's a conversationalist, huh?_ "We all enjoy each other's company. Kinda comes with the job," Jesse explains with a shrug. "Him n' Tracer get along great 'cause they were trainin' partners back in the day. Both became new recruits 'round the same time, both as quick as jackrabbits when they're in the zone." He gives a breathy laugh as he shakes his head. "They're the only two people in the whole world who can keep up with each other, swear it on my momma's grave."  
  
"Tracer?" There's an ounce of confusion in Hanzo's tone. "I thought her name was Lena Oxton."  
  
"Ah, sure. Tracer is her nickname. Some o' us wanna use codenames so we ain't that recognizable to the public eye. Doesn't really help, though, when they got our faces plastered everywhere." He pauses. "Well, they used t'be plastered everywhere."  
  
"Do you have a codename?"

Curious, Jesse turns his head back in Hanzo's direction to see if he was truly interested. He had gotten his bow case on his lap at some point and is seemingly focused on the weapon that laid inside. His fingers are gliding across the spine and up the bow string as if he was silently appraising it. _Probably is, honestly._

  
"I don't. Wasn't really necessary for me or Genji. We were Blackwatch and already a secret t'the rest o' the world."  
  
That statement gets a reaction, even if the only reaction is a fleeting second of eye contact with an inquisitive brow raised. "Was Blackwatch not the reason Overwatch was disbanded?"  
  
That was a heavy question to ask, especially to someone like Jesse who had admired and was very thankful for Blackwatch and the opportunity Gabriel gave him. He wasn't saying they were saints, not by a long shot, but talking about what happened back then was still a touchy subject. "Uh... it's a bit more complicated than that," he says as he rubs the back of his neck. "It was a reason, I s'pose... but definitely not the main reason."  
  
"So, what was the main reason?" He's still not looking at Jesse, and he now has the bow lifted just enough that he can pluck the string, testing the durability of the nock.  
  
Really? This is the first casual conversation we're havin'? "That ain't a easy question t'answer, Shimada-san," he sighs, sounding a little on edge. "Not for me, at least. Winston would have a better time explainin', honestly."  
  
Hanzo goes still. "I hit a nerve. I apologize."  
  
"No big deal. Why you so interested, anyway?"  
  
It's then that he continues his plucking. "If I am to spend my time with your Overwatch, I think it only fair that I know its demons considering it's evident that you know mine." Jesse catches him sneaking a glimpse towards the cockpit.  
  
"Huh. Yer right. Fair's fair. I hope ya find the answers yer lookin' for."  
  
"... Thank you."  
  
Nothing else is said between them for quite a while. _He's not a fan of small talk, either way._ Soon, Hanzo is done inspecting his bow and zips it back up; Jesse pulls up a few puzzle games on his phone to ease his boredom. He checks on the other man on occasion, though he does nothing exciting. At one point, his eyes are closed, making Jesse believe he had fallen asleep, but he must have just been resting his eyes because they're slowly opening moments later. He quickly returns to his phone before he's accused of staring again.  
  
It's been two hours into the flight. On good time, this trip will take up to twelve hours total. Genji comes in to check on them every once in a while, and at about the five hour mark, Jesse offers to switch seats from the cargo bay to the cockpit. His ninja friend agrees, and Jesse makes his way to the copilot chair. There, Lena talks animatedly about her adventures during the past few years. She tells him about Emily, and he tells her about his eventful train ride to Houston and the bounty amount on his head.  
  
That makes her look worried. As Jesse is leaned back in the chair, legs hitched up on the dashboard with one ankle crossed over the other, hat resting on his chest, she says, "You don't think that'll be a problem later, do you?"  
  
"Guess we'll just have t'see," he replies gruffly.  
  
"And those Talon lackeys... Do you really think they were ex-Blackwatch?"  
  
"Most definitely. One o' 'em recognized me, even. Dunno why any old Blackwatch would wanna join a terrorist organization... but it ain't my place to judge. Not anymore."  
  
"Hmm..." Lena trails off in thought. "I suppose you're right."  
  
Wanting to change the subject, he asks, "How far are we now?"  
  
She checks the GPS on her control panel. "Well over halfway." Jesse nods and says nothing else, which prompts Lena to ask another question. "What do you think about Hanzo? Was he worth the jet fuel?"  
  
"Ain't a very trustful guy. He has reason to, though, so I don't blame him much. He'd'a never given us the time o' day if it weren't for Gen. Only time'll tell his usefulness."  
  
"Only time will tell," she repeats with a sigh.  
  
.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.▪°▪.  
  
"Really? You are a smoker?"  
  
They had finally landed on Gibraltar's helipad located on the top of the main building at 5:34 p.m. CET. Everyone seems relieved to finally be on stable ground; Lena and Genji are still gathering their belongings from the jet, and Jesse and Hanzo are waiting outside for them to finish, the casually dressed cowboy with a backpack on his back and the more formally and clean dressed archer with his luggage following behind him. Jesse hadn't had a smoke since yesterday, so he had pulled out one of his thick cigars from his pack for the special occasion of a successful mission. It was when he stroked a match and lit the tobacco that Hanzo had said something.  
  
Jesse looks up at him with an uncaring expression, eyes hooded by his hat. "I am." A large cloud of smoke rolls from his mouth when he speaks around the butt of the cigar. "What's it to ya?"  
  
Hanzo's nose turns up, piercing gaze narrowing. "You are apart of an organization of supposedly elite individuals, and you pick up such a nasty habit?"  
  
Jesse inhales a good bit of smoke before taking the cigar out of his mouth, using it to point towards the other, and makes sure to blow in a direction away from Hanzo. "If I ain't gonna judge you for the things you do, then I suggest you do the same for me."  
  
There's an obviously disagreeing, _Hmph_ , that comes from him as he turns away, that grumpy grimace still glued to his features. The arrival of the other two of their travelling party saves them from having a tense exchange. Jesse continues his smoking like any other time and strikes up a conversation with Lena on their way towards the roof entrance. He squashes the half-smoked cigar out before they go inside and saves the other half for later.  
  
"Winston is gonna meet us downstairs," Lena says cheerfully on their way down the stairwell, her chronal accelerator giving the area a nice blue glow. "He'll be the one to show ya around and get you situated, Mr. Shimada. But remember: he's not a gorilla, he's a scientist! Oh, how I've missed him!"  
  
Hanzo, who is a few steps below her, makes a thoughtful hum. "I'll be sure to take note of that."  
  
"You do know he's the one who gave me the ability to do this" -- her sentence is halted as a flash of blue zips in front of all of them, and there she is on the platform below, hands on her small hips and wide, cocky grin on her face, only a second later -- "don'tcha?"  
  
That makes Hanzo stop midstep, and he has a dumbfounded expression as Genji and Jesse, both chuckling to themselves at the display, pass him. _First time I've ever seen him not look pissed off. It's a damn miracle_.  
  
"I... did not know," he says in a monotone as if he's not trying to seem too enthused, then continues his steps, now following the group. "I am impressed."  
  
"Told ya she was quick," Jesse remarks, holding out his fist to Lena for a fistbump as he passes her. She gives a short giggle and reciprocates.  
  
"I guess you could say that I got time on my side," she jests with a playful shrug.  
  
They reach the end of the stairwell and enter the building. Down the hall, one of the doors is already propped open, and low talking can be heard, too quiet to tell who the voices are. Excitedly, Lena blinks ahead until she's is front of the door. However, her usually animated and bouncy features fall flat into a look of utter shock. This makes Jesse anxious. If she's stopped dead in her tracks, then something must be wrong.  
  
In the time that it takes them to catch up, she says one name; one name that makes his breath hitch in his throat and time slow around him, even as he starts on his near sprint to see if it was truly _her_.  
  
" _Ana!?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to make my chapters not as long so I can get them out quicker! Still, hope y'all enjoy :)♡


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